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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29786259">When the world stopped spinning</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/spiromachia/pseuds/spiromachia'>spiromachia</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Dream SMP AUs and Cannon Divergence [10]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Bad Parent Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Confused Ghost Wilbur Soot, Crying, Dead TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Gen, Ghost Wilbur Soot, Grief/Mourning, Immortal Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Implied/Referenced Character Death, Mental Breakdown, Mentioned Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), Mentioned Ranboo (Video Blogging RPF), Mentioned Sam | Awesamdude, Mentioned Toby Smith | Tubbo, Mentioned TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Technoblade is Bad at Feelings (Video Blogging RPF), but he didn't expect his pseudo son to die, but not much comfort honestly</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-16 02:55:08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,381</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29786259</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/spiromachia/pseuds/spiromachia</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>((((SPOILERS FOR THE MARCH 1ST TOMMYINNIT STREAM))))</p><p>Phil knelt by his son's side, "Wil, look at me," he commanded gently, not caring that he used the wrong name, "You alright mate?"</p><p>He wasn't ready for the sight before him.</p><p>Ghostbur's eyes were filled to the brim with blackened tears, pouring down his cheeks like an endless waterfall of sorrow, and his expression could only be described as desperate, horrified even. Ghostbur had only ever cried once before, as far as Phil knew. When he and Technoblade had teamed together to wreck havoc upon L'manberg and raze it to the ground, left as nothing more than a memory of what used to be.</p><p>But those tears were nothing compared to this.</p><p>Or...<br/>It's not Tommy's time to die yet, but Dream manages to kill him anyway. The afterlife wasn't ready for the new presence and Ghostbur feels as a new gap is torn into the abyss, soon filled by the boy he considered his little brother.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Technoblade &amp; Phil Watson, Wilbur Soot &amp; Phil Watson, Wilbur Soot &amp; Technoblade, Wilbur Soot &amp; Technoblade &amp; TommyInnit &amp; Phil Watson</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Dream SMP AUs and Cannon Divergence [10]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2149863</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>525</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>When the world stopped spinning</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I needed to get this out before Phil and Techno stream on the SMP and inevitably make fun of Tommy for dying like an idiot lol.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>There was nothing particularly wrong about that day.</p><p>The sky was shrouded comfortably in clouds, there was a slight breeze in the air, Phil had finally finished the final touches to his newly built cabin, adjacent to Technoblade's. The turtles had been fed, the bees tended to, the villagers traded with and Ghostbur had visited after a long hiatus, hovering over his shoulder as he'd worked, chattering away as per usual. Phil could tell his son was tired; it was just one of those parental instincts. He could tell that there was something on his mind in the way he'd sometimes mumble his words or stare off into space for a moment more than usual, but still, he kept up the stream of conversation well, talking about his journeys and book writing. All in all, it was a good day.</p><p>It was <em>supposed</em> to be a good day.</p><p>"Phil! You nearly done? It's gettin' late," Techno called from his doorway, for once standing without armour draping his body, "Mobs could start spawnin' any moment now."</p><p>"Don't be so paranoid. I've survived for years without your assistance, how do you think I managed that?" Phil responded good naturedly, brushing the snow off his trousers with a grin.</p><p>"Either way, you're cuttin' it close," the piglin rolled his eyes, "Ghostbur, it'll be dangerous for you to travel back to the SMP, by the time you're halfway home there'll be mobs crawlin' around everywhere, you wanna stay here for the night?"</p><p>The winged man began to climb the steps to his newly built home, but slowed slightly when only silence rang through the air. He glanced back over his shoulder at his ghostly son with curiosity, one eyebrow raised. The young man in question was staring down into the snow with unblinking eyes, one of his hands loosely gripping his jumper, right over the split open, gaping wound of his chest, a troubled expression on his face, like he was experiencing something he couldn't quite understand.</p><p>"Wil? You alright mate?" he asked.</p><p>Ghostbur blinked, snapping himself out of whatever stupor he was in, before he turned to his father with a chirpy smile. It didn't look like it quite met his eyes, "Oh- yup, coming!"</p><p>Philza nodded and turned to go inside, already half shaking his cloak off his shoulders when he heard a choking noise from behind him.</p><p>Quickly he twisted around just in time to see Ghostbur's expression twist in agony and his mouth drop open in silent pain as he nearly fell onto his knees. Before he could even blink, Techno was already at his side, dropping down beside him.</p><p>"Wilb- Ghostbur?" the piglin asked sharply, trying to place his hand on the ghost's back to soothe him, but it went straight through, so instead, he held it in the air where his flesh should have been, "You good?"</p><p>Phil knelt by his side, "Wil, look at me," he commanded gently, not caring that he used the wrong name, "You alright mate?"</p><p>He wasn't ready for the sight before him.</p><p>Ghostbur's eyes were filled to the brim with blackened tears, pouring down his cheeks like an endless waterfall of sorrow, and his expression could only be described as desperate,<em> horrified</em> even. Ghostbur had only ever cried once before, as far as Phil knew. When he and Technoblade had teamed together to wreck havoc upon L'manberg and raze it to the ground, left as nothing more than a memory of what used to be. He'd remembered the screaming, the crying as the friendly ghost sobbed his heart out and shouted in his father's face, asking him why. Why would he do this? Why was he punishing him for something he couldn't even remember?</p><p>But those tears were nothing compared to this.</p><p>This was a man having a fully fledged mental breakdown, and Phil would bet that if he had functioning lungs, he'd be hyperventilating. The tears didn't stop pouring and he didn't even try to wipe his eyes as they flowed down and stained the collar of his favourite jumper.</p><p>"Wil- Wil! Calm down mate, it's okay, you're okay," the man tried, but before he could finish, the ghost pushed him away, gripping his hair tightly with both hands, enough for it to hurt.</p><p>"No- no, no no-" he started muttering, his eyes wide but unseeing, "No he's- that's not right it- No no NO."</p><p>"Ghostbur," Phil begged, jumping to his feet and holding out his hands in a fleeting attempt to placate him, "Ghostbur, you're okay. Whatever you're seeing it's not real. None of it is real."</p><p>"No- no, but it is real it's- it <em>can't</em> be real. This isn't right- he's- he's gone he- he's <em>gone.</em>"</p><p>"Who's gone?" Techno tried, "Come on Ghostbur, work with us here. Who's gone?"</p><p>"He's dead- but- but he can't be dead he's- he's supposed to stay alive I- he was <em>supposed</em> to stay alive for me. He <em>promised</em> to stay <em>alive</em>."</p><p>"Come on, you're not making any sense-"</p><p>"He's <em>dead!"</em> the hollow man cried out with a scream, planting his face into his hands and sobbing violently, his shoulders shaking as his body wracked with tremours.</p><p>For a moment, neither of the older men moved, scared that even inching closer would cause their friend and son to break down even further. There was a string of mutterings coming from the poltergeist's mouth, chanting like a mantra.</p><p>"He's dead, he's dead, he's dead, he's dead, he's-"</p><p>"Ghostbur."</p><p>Wilbur's head shot up at the sound of his name, but his lips continued to tremble and the tears never stopped for a moment.</p><p>"Come on, mate. Talk to us. Who's dead?" Phil asked softly, keeping his face as calm as possible.</p><p>For a moment, the brunet's mouth opened and closed, as if trying to come up with the right words, as if just saying the name would be too painful, as if telling them the truth would cause the world to stop spinning.</p><p>"Just get on with it," Technoblade huffed impatiently, crossing his arms, "We need to get inside soon. The sun is literally settin'."</p><p>"No, I-"</p><p>"Ghostbur," the piglin repeated, settling a hard stare, "Just spit it out."</p><p>"It- it's-" the ghost stuttered, before his eyes scrunched shut, and he cried, "It's <em>Tommy!"</em></p><p>Maybe a cold breeze swept through the tundra, maybe the sun had started to set too low, maybe the ice was finally starting to get to his bones, but Phil felt a sudden wave of freezing cold crawl over him, a spine shaking chill wracking his body.</p><p>"What."</p><p>"He's dead- he's dead, he's gone and I-" Ghostbur choked on his words before diving into his father's embrace and, even though he couldn't hold him properly, Phil wrapped his arms numbly around him, "He's gone. Tommy's gone."</p><p>The only sound for those next few, excruciatingly long moments was the sound of Ghostbur's muffled sobs as he whimpered in his father's distant enfold. Philza didn't blink. Techno didn't move.</p><p>"What- he's- you're tellin' me, Tommy's dead?" Techno asked senselessly, his expression portraying no emotion, "You're jokin' right? Ghostbur, you're jokin'."</p><p>The soft shake of his head was the only response they got.</p><p>"No," Phil finally said, more dazed than he'd ever been in his life, the only time that even rivalled this was when he held his dying son in his arms as he bled out on the floor, the embers of a once great nation being snuffed out with him, "No. You're lying. Ghostbur you- you forget things sometimes, I understand that, but this really isn't funny," he chuckled breathlessly, hoping and praying that the words his son spoke were untrue, "<em>Please</em>, tell me you're lying."</p><p>"How would you even know he's dead?" Techno asked, his voice as monotone as ever, but Phil would be blind if he said he didn't see the tension in his friend's shoulders, and there was a subtle desperation behind his tone, "I mean, you just kinda collapsed there, you didn't even check your communicator."</p><p>"I could feel it," Ghostbur mumbled, finally bringing and hand up to his face and wiping his nose, "A spot- a place opened up for in the after life, I could <em>feel</em> it. It's been growing all day but it wasn't supposed to happen so<em> soon</em>, and I- I should have-"</p><p>"Ghostb-"</p><p>"The gap's been filled," he finished, bowing his head in grief, "He's dead. Tommy's <em>dead.</em>"</p><p>Once again, silence enveloped them, none of them seeming to notice as the night crept forwards, as the shadows cast by the ever setting sun grew longer and longer. Phil continued to stare at nothing, knowing that none of the words that had been spoken were being taken in, knowing that there were five stages to the grief and the first one was denial.</p><p>"Tommy... you mean- Tommy's dead?" he questioned, his voice sounding practically emotionless, "How?"</p><p>Beside him, Technoblade blinked before practically ripping his communicator from his pocket and pressing the button on the side. Immidiately, his face froze as a darkness formed behind his eyes, flickering over the messages on his screen.</p><p>"Who-"</p><p>"Dream," the piglin growled through his teeth, gripping the device so tightly Phil wouldn't be surprised if he crushed it.</p><p>"But Dream's in the prison," Phil countered, "Surely he's not allowed weapons there, so he'd have to... have to..."</p><p>"To have killed him with his bare hands," Techno finished for him, placing the device back in his pocket.</p><p>The winged man could practically feel as the inner turmoil began to bubble under his skin, images of brilliant blond hair and bright blue eyes flashed in his mind, a teenager standing triumphantly at the top of a shoddily made cobblestone tower, cackling at the pitiful people below, a boy watching in curiosity over Phil's shoulder as he sprinkled some gunpowder into the brewing stand, a kid who he'd once found sleeping down in the basement of the house, his body resting fully on Technoblade's cow, dreaming more peacefully than he'd seen him in months.</p><p>But this was also a warrior, a fighter, a selfish boy who did nothing but take and take, a soldier who wouldn't hesitate to betray his allies at the drop of a hat if it assisted his own self gain, a combatant who not only participated in wars, but actively sought out conflict to for pitiful fun and games. Who laughed as fire rose from the remains of buildings yet cried as his own burned down before him. A boy who stole trinkets and expensive items for shits and giggles, a boy who never learned his lesson, a boy who liked to think himself a hero.</p><p>And yet, he didn't seem to have died like one.</p><p>Philza expected him to die in the heat of battle, blood on his lips and adrenalin pumping through his veins, maybe doing something stupid and selfless for someone who didn't care about him, but instead, the boy died alone, locked away in a prison cell with a man he'd always vocally despised, beaten and broken, bloody and bruised.</p><p>TommyInnit didn't die like a hero, he died cold and alone, in a tiny obsidian box with no escape.</p><p>He didn't die like Wilbur, in the arms of his father, or Schlatt, surrounded by his people and too drunk to tell that he was wasting away. He died like Theseus, alone and afraid, killed by the person he used to believe he could trust.</p><p>Tommy was obsessed with this idea of trust, and Phil remembered the days when he seemed to almost trust too easily, but after Technoblade had found him in his little dug out hole under his house, there was always this sense of wariness around him, a lingering suspicion that he carried with him wherever he went. It was in the way he always carried golden apples in his pockets and ate them whenever someone came too close, almost relaxing as the absorption effect took hold of him, in the way he kept his distance at all times, hovering at the edges of the room, eyes constantly flickering towards the closest exit. But even then, the most confused Phil had ever seen him was when he was debating his trust in Dream.</p><p>
  <em>("What was it like in exile, Tommy?" Phil asked casually, continuing to stir the stew in the pot.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Huh?" the teenager asked dumbly, looking up from the book he had been reading. It had been years since the man had seen him pick up a book of his own volition.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Exile, I mean, you were alone for a long time there."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"I wasn't alone. I had Dream," Tommy replied almost too quickly.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Dream? I thought you hated Dream."</em>
</p><p><em>"He's my friend- no wait, </em> <em>he's not my friend. </em> <em>Dream was only there to watch me..."</em></p><p>
  <em>"You alright mate? I can practically see the cogs turning in your head there."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"... Dream wasn't my friend, was he?"</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"I don't think so, was he nice to you?"</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Sometimes."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"More often than not?"</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"... enough for him to show he cared."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"I don't think that counts, mate."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"I.. I don't want to talk about this anymore."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Alright, you want to help me replace the bee's flowers in a minute? I think there's an infection in the soil of some kind, so they've all up and died."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Uh- yeah, sure. Just let me grab my coat.")</em>
</p><p>And Dream had been the one to kill him, to take his final life and end the cycle. As much as Phil hated the kid, he didn't want him<em> dead.</em></p><p>"He was my brother," Ghostbur snivelled, wiping his eyes with the sleeves of his jumper, but they didn't seem to make a dent, "He was my brother- I was supposed to <em>protect</em> him."</p><p>"You're a <em>ghost,</em> Ghostbur," Technoblade stated obviously, "There's nothing that you could have done even if you wanted to."</p><p>"But I should have <em>been</em> there."</p><p>None of this felt real.</p><p>"He's- he's been through so much I- I can <em>remember</em> <em>things</em>- things that I couldn't before,"  the dead man continued, "Things that happened to him that I can never repeat, horrible, <em>horrible</em> things. Things no man should have to go through, let alone- let alone a<em> child</em>."</p><p>"What happened Ghostbur?" Phil asked carefully, a stupid sort of hope rising in his chest, "What can you remember?"</p><p>Wilbur's shadow swallowed dryly, "Ex-exile."</p><p>"What about his exile?"</p><p>For a moment, it seemed like he was going to explain himself, opening and closing his mouth, but in the end, he settled on pulling his lips into a thin line and shaking his head. Any hope in Phil's chest seeped away.</p><p>"I- I can't it- it's not my place to tell."</p><p>Technoblade didn't seem pleased by this answer, but instead of demanding more information, he sighed, seemingly exhausted despite spending his day reading books in his armchair by the heat of the fire. Gently, he gripped onto Phil's bicep, shooting a side glance to the empty, freshly build cabin adjacent to his own, "Do you wanna spend the night at mine?"</p><p>"Yeah... I-I don't think I want to be alone tonight."</p><p>Despite the fireplace that still smoked brightly, there seemed to be nothing that could heat the cold numbness that seemed to fill Philza's chest as he draped his winter cloak onto a coat hanger. Techno didn't follow suit, instead making a beeline straight for his armchair, where he promptly collapsed into the cushions. For several minutes, neither of them spoke, neither of them good at expressing their emotions in any way that would count. Ghostbur never followed them inside, floating back into the snowy woods where he came from, still wiping the tears from his eyes.</p><p>He wondered how long it would take for him to forget.</p><p>Phil settled himself into another one of the armchairs, curling up to his wings sat comfortably to one side and stole a glance at his ally, who's face looked stoic and neutral, but his eyes were far away.</p><p>"Why?" he finally settled on, ignoring the way his friend jolted a little at the noise.</p><p>"Why what?" Technoblade asked, just as emotionally exhausted.</p><p>"Why is it always my mortals? Why do they- why do they always have to be mine?" he reached a hand up, holding it above his head and staring at it blankly.</p><p>"That's the price you have to pay for getting attached," the piglin replied dryly, "You knew they would die. This is just what you signed up for."</p><p>"No but- I thought I'd have a few more years with them yet."</p><p>Wilbur had only been 24 when Phil had lost him, which was practically the blink of an eye for a man who'd live for hundreds of years. He'd lived a long life, seen so many things both beautiful and horrible, he'd built incredible buildings and structures that could touch the sky, but he'd never felt more proud of himself than when he was raising Wil. His pride and joy, his hope, his unfinished symphony.</p><p>Now that Phil thought about it, he never really spent that much time with Wil, always off on some sort of adventure, seeing the world while his son stayed at home and took care of the stray he'd taken in from the streets. Tommy, the second mortal and Phil had become attached to in the wake of his first son's death, only for him to go and betray that trust and side with the enemy.</p><p>Out of the 24 years that Wilbur spent on this Earth, how many of them did Phil spend taking care of him? He must have been able to count them on both hands, and the thought <em>hurt.</em></p><p>"It's his own fault," Techno huffed, settling further into his seat, "He's always gettin' himself in trouble, it's just that this time, it happened to be his downfall."</p><p>Phil frowned, not finding the words to respond to that.</p><p>"He went to that prison expectin' it to be a walk in the park, just like everythin' else in his life. His mistake."</p><p>"But should he have been killed for making a simple mistake?"</p><p>"Doesn't matter. That's what happened, end of story."</p><p>The fire crackled lowly, the only light source in the entire room other than the burnt out lanterns that hung gently from the ceiling. Outside, the final rays from the sun finally dipped over the horizon, blanketing the Earth in darkness.</p><p>"You miss him, don't you."</p><p>"Why would I?" Technoblade growled defensively.</p><p>"I can just tell," Phil replied, feeling no fear of the man nearby him, "He was a good kid, I'll give you that. At least for a little while."</p><p>"... I wonder what Ghostbur was on about," the piglin scratched his chin idly, "<em>'Things no man should have to go through, let alone a child'</em>. What could that possibly mean?"</p><p>"He mentioned exile. Maybe something happened while he was banished?"</p><p>"No, no I would have noticed if something had happened I... I would have," he trailed off suddenly, his eyes growing distant as if seeing a long forgotten memory.</p><p>"Techno?"</p><p>"That green bastard," he laughed, running his hand over the back of one of his ears bitterly.</p><p>"Techno? What's wrong mate?" Phil sat up straight, feeling a tension build in his shoulders.</p><p>"Nothin' I- Can we discuss this in the mornin'? I'm a bit..."</p><p>"Yeah, yeah I get it," he sighed, pulling himself up out of the comfort of his arm chair and stretching his arms, still sore from hours of manual labour, "It's gettin' late, we should head off to bed."</p><p>Outside, it began to snow, but on the other side of the server, it was lashing it down, rain soaking through the rooftops of people's houses and rattling against their window frames as a boy lay lifelessly on the obsidian floor, beaten to a bloody pulp inside an inescapable prison, his skull cracked and his ribs poking through his lungs, as a madman cackled at the young boy's naivety, as a creeper hybrid screamed across the barrier of lava, begging for his eyes to be deceiving him, as a goat horned boy and an enderman hybrid laughed and laughed, not knowing that their lives would soon be turned upside down forever, not even realising that the world had stopped spinning entirely.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>"Wh- where the hell..." the boy trailed off, squinting and holding one hand in front of his eyes in a fleeting attempt to see past the blindingly bright light, "The fuck is this?"</p><p>This new world seemed endless and blank, not a structure in sight. He would have thought it was incredible, if he knew where the hell he was.</p><p>"Tommy?"</p><p>The teenager jolted at the noise, turning on his heel to see two figures standing nearby. Two figures, that he happened to know very, very well. "W-Wil?" he gaped, ignoring the way his voice cracked pathetically.</p><p>The man seemed surprised, horrified even, and the man standing next to him wore a look of distant pity on his face, "Tommy what- what happened to you?"</p><p>The teenager didn't respond, too busy sprinting straight at him and throwing his arms around his neck with a cry of sorrow, feeling long, lanky arms wrap around him in return to answer the question.</p><p>For the first time since Doomsday, he felt at home.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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